When I brought Mitarashi Dango as a gift in America...

Today was a school holiday, and we were invited to the home of my son's classmate. I had planned to stop at a shop on the way to buy muffins or cookies as a gift, but my son suggested with sparkling eyes,

“Let's make Mitarashi Dango and bring that!”

In a manga, he would have had a lightbulb drawn above his head, as he had that expression of someone who had just thought of something great and couldn't help but smile.

Mitarashi Dango is my son's favorite snack. He wanted to introduce this Japanese snack, which he assumed his close friend wouldn't know, to him..

Hmm. My son, that's a great idea. Alright, let's make it and bring it! (Since there are no shops nearby that sell Mitarashi Dango, we have no choice but to make it ourselves.)

Actually, when I heard this suggestion from my son, something clicked for me.

My son was born and raised in America and doesn't yet have much of a sense of being Japanese, but since starting school, he has been gradually realizing that there are things about him that are different from the other children. For example, the contents of his lunch box. The fact that he can speak Japanese. I feel that by explaining these traits of his to his teachers and other children, he is consciously or unconsciously becoming aware that he has a special connection to Japan..

In that context, I wanted to cherish my son's desire to introduce his favorite Japanese snack to his friend.

I had my son and daughter help with the process of rolling the dough into balls in their palms, and we made a whole plate full of Mitarashi Dango. Since we sometimes make this snack together as a family, both the parents and children are used to the routine.

By the way, we don't put the dumplings on skewers. Because it's a hassle (lol).

My son and daughter, unable to wait until we took them as a gift, each had a plate of freshly made dumplings, claiming they were just tasting them. They even carefully licked the remaining sauce off the plate with their tongues, not leaving a single drop. I get it. The combination of soy sauce and sugar is the best, after all. I turned a blind eye to their bad manners.

Well, at our friend's house, everyone ate pizza for lunch, and then it was decided that it was time for a snack.

My mom friend called her child, Jack (pseudonym), and said while showing him the Mitarashi Dango,

“XX's (my son's) mom made some Japanese snacks for us.”

While my son was making a fuss on the side, saying things like, “This is really delicious!” or “I love the sauce!”, the smile completely vanished from Jack's face.

I could practically see the skeptical question, “What is this?”, swirling around in his head.

“Please, don't tell me I have to eat this.”

His inner voice reached me loud and clear, but perhaps my friend felt she had to say it for my sake, so she asked,

“Do you want to try some?”

I asked Jack gently. In a voice so faint it was hard to imagine from his usual energetic self, Jack replied,

“No.”

He said just that one word and walked away.

Looking awkward, his mom said,

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t eat things he’s not used to.”

I felt like apologizing for making things awkward, but I honestly hadn't expected that Mitarashi Dango, which everyone in Japan loves (?), would be treated this way, so it was a surprise. I thought about it later, but for children like Jack who aren't familiar with dango, something colorful like three-colored dango might be more visually acceptable.

On the other hand, his mom seemed to like the chewy texture and enjoyed the Mitarashi Dango, eating quite a few. She said she wanted her husband to try them later, so I left the rest with her. By the way, she mentioned she likes the American version of Yukimi Daifuku because of the mochi connection, and even showed me some in her freezer.

America has people from all sorts of backgrounds, and everyone's interest in food is different, so I can't draw any definitive conclusions from this one incident, but at the very least, my son achieved his initial goal of introducing Japanese food to his friends, so I'll call it a success. (My son didn't seem interested in his friend's reaction and appeared satisfied just by being able to eat the Mitarashi Dango himself.)

Besides, for Jack, the baffling fact that his friend happily ate a snack he had never seen before—and one that didn't look appealing to him—might have served as a glimpse into the diversity of this world (a bit of a stretch, haha).

It’s obvious when you put it into words: just because my own child likes something doesn't mean American children will. Still, I’m curious about what kind of things they might enjoy. I won't let this discourage me, and I plan to keep trying different things.